Kirk Douglas is a god. Kubrick is a god. Together in Paths of Glory they
are magnificent. This is a film about proper and uppity French military snobs, cowards
in the field, wrongfully accused men sentenced to death, and one noble man trying
with all his heart to stop it. This film is amazing. I am trying to think of adjectives
to make you go see this film, trying to describe all the nuances that are explored
by the myriad of tortured human souls, a film that captures, as well as it has ever
been shown, man's inhumanity to man. You will be riveted to your seat like an I-beam
at the top of a skyscraper. This is one of those films that makes you think: They
sure don't make movies like that anymore. Perhaps Spielberg can bring a bit of this
in this summer's Saving Private Ryan. Perhaps Terrence Malick can show us
the inhumanity of war in The Thin Red Line, but neither of them have Kirk
Douglas, and that is very unfortunate. When Kirk chimes off on Adolfe Menjou, you'll
understand what it's like to take a puff from your last cigarette.